


uniform

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Celebrations, Future Fic, M/M, Redeemed Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: At least this way he could feel good about the outcome. Whatever he’d had to sacrifice, it was worth it, because it was for everyone. And they’d won and there were still enough members of the Resistance around to throw a truly spectacular party.A party Poe didn’t really want to have anything to do with, but a party nonetheless.





	uniform

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the [Star Wars Advent Calendar](https://starwarsadventcalendar.tumblr.com/) prompt for December 2: “green and gold”

It had never been Poe’s intention to live his life as a hero. Die as one, maybe, but see this job through to completion and come out the other end of it? He’d never imagined it was possible. Wars chewed heroes up and spit back out dead bodies or husks. If you got out early enough, sometimes you got lucky, but Poe’d seen enough heroes die and he’d seen enough heroes linger on to know that most of the time, everyone involved just wished they’d never had to get involved.

Poe got it. He was definitely in the camp that wished there’d never been a First Order out there that needed its ass kicked. But he also couldn’t say he regretted his involvement with the Resistance exactly. The price he paid was the price he paid. And he’d decided early on that he was going into the Navy, so he wouldn’t have escaped conflict entirely anyway.

At least this way he could feel good about the outcome. Whatever he’d had to sacrifice, it was worth it, because it was for everyone. And they’d won and there were still enough members of the Resistance around to throw a truly spectacular party.

A party Poe didn’t really want to have anything to do with, but a party nonetheless.

He smiled his way through a lot of it, gripped a flute of champagne between clumsy, rigid fingers until it grew warm, the bubbles as sluggish and unhappy as he was. He clapped everyone he saw on the shoulder and had a kind word for each and every one. The way their eyes lit up as he spoke to them was humbling, so he stayed later than he truly wanted to, talking until he was hoarse, touching until his palms felt a little raw. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty: it shouldn’t have been this easy to make these people happy, these people who were already ecstatic, drunk on victory and the belief that they could do anything. And yet his mere presence bolstered them.

Yeah, it was definitely humbling.

But it was exhausting, too.

So maybe he found a convenient moment to break free, surrounded by the rest of his team for once, Black Squadron as jubilant as the rest of them as they toasted Poe’s efforts and the shiny new piece of candy that adorned his chest. This near to the door, he thought he could make a clean escape. But Snap arched an eyebrow and said, “You’re gonna be missed, man.”

“Come on,” Poe answered, cajoling, like Snap had any control over what other people did. Sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even have control over himself. It was the only explanation for why his stills always lead to alcohol that would’ve better served as paint stripper—and Poe knew it, because he’d used it as paint stripper before. ”Run a bit of interference for me. I’m tired, man.” He brought his hands together in a supplicating gesture and thrust his lip out. “And champagne’s not really my thing anyway.”

Partying wasn’t really his thing either, not these days, but he didn’t have to tell Snap that.

Snap and Karé exchanged glances and Jess rolled her eyes. Suralinda had already drifted off, her camdroid in tow as she interviewed anybody who would come near for her new docuseries. If Poe stuck around, she’d try to get him, too, and that was just the absolute last thing he wanted right now. Or ever. He was already gonna go around getting more attention than he wanted. It would just be infinitely worse if his face was plastered all over her work, his mouth saying words he meant but were reductive and not even a portion of the whole truth, not in the slightest.

“Yeah, okay, boss,” Snap said. “We’ll run interference for you.”

He pulled each of them into a hug, squeezed them tight around the shoulders and did ridiculous shit, like muss their hair and tell them he was proud of them. “But only because you didn’t embarrass me for once,” he added, a well-worn joke at this point. “That was some good flying out there.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Karé said.

“Well, sure you could. But it was certainly more stylishly accomplished with me there.” He inched toward the door, walking backward in slow, measured steps. He placed the glass of champagne on the edge of the table that stood right next to it and pressed his hand against the panel, surreptitious. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“So everything’s still on the table, huh?” Jess said, not quite loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, but voice raised enough to carry over the din created by a room full of raucous celebrants.

All Poe did was wave her off. Were they on their own or back in the pilot’s ready room, he might have offered her a gesture that was considered crude on more than a handful of planets in the galaxy. But he didn’t need his reputation tarnished already, the shine of that gold medal on his chest saying he’d served with distinction marred by indiscreet and childish behavior. Besides, it was at least as likely as not that Suralinda had another camdroid stashed around here somewhere, ready to pick up anything interesting it could find.

And Poe doing that would’ve been of interest. Sadly, everything he did today was of interest.

Offering a wink and a wave, he passed into the hallway.

Once he was alone, he let out a breath. Already the weight of expectation lifted from his shoulders. His hand pressed over his heart, the metal cool against his touch, grounding in a way. It meant nothing to Poe in the grand scheme of things, not the way it was supposed to mean something, but feeling anything other than the heat of everyone’s regard was a relief. He was a bona fide hero now and he had the accessories to prove it.

If he thought he could get away with it, he might have tossed the thing in the nearest garbage chute and let the universe do with it what it would.

Instead, he took a deep breath and strode down the halls, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The base was entirely abandoned, everyone already at the party that would probably continue for days yet. But it was still in its early hours now and nobody wanted to step away.

Nobody except Poe.

It felt strange for no one to be around. Always before there were people scurrying about, going to or from an important meeting, every moment devoted to bringing down the First Order. But now that it was done, everyone seemed perfectly happy to put aside their duties. At least for this one night, they could have fun and be free. Rebuilding could begin tomorrow or the day after, he supposed, whenever the celebration finally died down.

His mind already turned to what he would do next. There was always something left undone.

Perhaps that was why he found himself striding toward the hangar bay. If there was one place on the base where there was work to be done, it was there. Even on slow days, there was always a repair left incomplete. And he knew the ships like the back of his hands. It wouldn’t take more than the smallest amount of effort to accomplish something useful there.

Yeah, the hangar bay sounded like an excellent idea right about now. Probably eventually it’d be overrun by raucous members of the flight crew, but right now, Poe didn’t doubt it would be abandoned.

That thought remained a comforting one while he confirmed for himself that it was indeed true. As soon as he walked in, he scanned the area and couldn’t immediately see anyone or hear anything. The fist that had squeezed itself around his heart relaxed and he finally felt like himself again. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did and yet he was infinitely grateful all the same. He wouldn’t have known what to do if he didn’t feel better just being here.

Pulling at the buttons on his jacket and loosening his collar, he strolled through the rows of ships in various stages of repair and disrepair.

His hand smoothed over the cool surfaces and he took note of the scratches, dings, and scoring along the noses and fuselages of each and every ship. They would all need to be in tip-top shape sooner rather than later. General Organa would want to return them to the New Republic as soon as possible, wash her hands of all of this. She hadn’t said anything, but he could sense it. It was sad to think of this old fleet getting reabsorbed, turned to lesser purposes, but it was the right thing to do. They would need them more than Leia would.

There would be no cause as great as this one, not in his lifetime he hoped.

“Son of a—” a voice whispered. Something heavy and metallic fell to the floor, clanging loudly and fully interrupting the quiet ambiance of the hangar bay. Poe would have been disappointed if he hadn’t immediately recognized the owner of the voice.

He really should have known. It wasn’t like Ben had made himself present at the party. In fact, Poe couldn’t remember him making even a cursory appearance. But why did he have to show his face here of all places?

It was probably for the best. Nobody really knew what to do with Ben, least of all Poe, who hadn’t ever really known what to do with him.

But if anyone would understand not wanting to celebrate, it was Ben. Poe figured that meant he didn’t have to count as someone Poe needed to avoid.

“Need a hand?” Poe asked, rounding the corner that was sure to lead to Ben. He knew what every corner of this place sounded like, where the noise liked to bounce and reverberate. Even with so many ships to confuse it, Poe knew exactly where he’d find Ben. He wrapped his arm around the scaffolding that currently held the half-sheared wing from one of the X-wings in place and swung around to get a better look at what was going on. There were a shit ton of tools on the ground and Ben was half-dressed, his undershirt covered in streaks of oil. “Need a couple of hands?” he asked as he hopped down again and stepped toward Ben.

Ben frowned and pushed himself to his feet, brushing his hair out of his face. “Oh,” he said, “I figured you’d be at the party. It’s all in your honor, isn’t it?” His gaze raked over Poe’s uniform and he only barely managed to keep his sniff of dissatisfaction to himself. Maybe Poe didn’t have definitive proof that he intended to be disdainful, but it stood to reason that he was annoyed at the very least.

Ben Solo could always be counted on to be annoyed. It was a hallmark for him, a fixed law of the universe.

“Last I checked I wasn’t the only one who fought,” Poe pointed out. “And I wasn’t the only one who got a medal.” In fact, Ben had one waiting for him, too, if he ever decided to acknowledge it. Which he probably wouldn’t. If Poe was stubborn, Ben was impossible. And Poe’d only capitulated once Leia got involved and basically demanded that he do it ‘or else.’

It wasn’t entirely clear what that ‘or else’ would be, but it probably would have involved chairing committees he had no business being a part of. She’d already warned him there’d be about a million of them popping up and as one of the most recognizable faces of the Resistance, he’d be a hot commodity among politicians looking to score points for their pet projects. Poe planned to disappear before all that happened—go back home to Yavin 4 and torture his dad with all the fiddling he intends to do on the homestead—but the general could easily make it hell on him to disappear and get something like a private life back.

“Medals are for…” Whatever Ben was going to say got lost in a gesture of disgust. “I don’t even know. What does it matter anyway?”

“It doesn’t.” Poe finally shrugged entirely out of his jacket, threw the green, heavy fabric at the nearest stool. He hated the color of it, drab and ugly, and the medal clashed horribly against it, glinting under the harsh overhead lights. It almost slid off, but managed at the last minute to stay put. If it had fallen, he might have let it stay in a heap where it landed. There was no Resistance without the First Order. There was no need for discipline in those circumstances, or respect for the uniform. At least in Poe’s mind. Maybe others would disagree. But for him, the Resistance had never been about the uniform. “But it might have been nice if you’d been there. For your mother if for no other reason.”

Ben snorted. “I’ve already done as much as I intend to do for her.” He jerked his head toward the A-wing whose guts were spilling onto the floor in a tangle of wires and spare parts. “She doesn’t need me to celebrate the Resistance’s win. And nobody else wants me there.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Poe said, offhand, an admission he hadn’t wanted to make before and didn’t really feel all that great about making now. The shit between him and Ben was complicated, long-lived. They’d probably never be entirely okay with one another, easy and free of the past. For a long time, that bothered Poe.

Now that there was a future to think about, he was even less sure how he felt. He could go home, sure, start the life he’d grown up being told was the life he wanted to live. Put down roots, start a family, laze around under the shade of trees with fat, green leaves that blocked just enough sun to make the hot days bearable. It was what he planned to do. And yet.

Even remembering his mom and dad and how content they were on Yavin 4, he knew that wasn’t quite right for him. Close, perhaps. He did want to go back after all. But it wasn’t everything. A loving partner, that wasn’t quite enough.

“You?” Ben snorted and shook his head, bent down to pick up the tool he’d dropped. “You just have a masochistic streak inside of you.”

“Sexy,” Poe answered, deadpan, stepping forward and picking up another tool, the one Ben actually wanted even if he didn’t realize it yet. He was a good mechanic, better than most, but he didn’t have the time with these ships that Poe had. They were like a second body to him, a second being. He knew what they needed. Ben didn’t and that was okay. “Tell me more about this masochistic streak I have.”

“You’re an asshole.” But Ben took the wrench Poe offered him, which was what mattered here. “Are you going to help or not?”

What he wanted, he thought, was this right here. They maybe didn’t acknowledge the shit going on between them, but that didn’t make it any less important. For other people, Poe wasn’t allowed to be anything less than the hero they believed him to be, that good guy who always had the right thing to say to inspire people to keep going—stumble through the words though he may have done a time or two—he was Poe Dameron, the guy they jokingly put on posters until it wasn’t a joke anymore, a true Resistance fighter.

He couldn’t be petty, couldn’t be angrier than the people around him, couldn’t be disappointed or demoralized or really fucking done with everything, not even now, when they actually were done. Not with anyone except for Ben, who’d made mistakes and worse and still managed to come back and be here when it mattered. If Poe were to start spouting off about all the shit he’d done wrong, Ben wouldn’t flinch and he wouldn’t try to pretend it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t try to coddle Poe or brush it aside. He’d listen, maybe or maybe not. But he wouldn’t argue that Poe was the persona he’d perfected over many years of fighting.

Not that they talked, really. About anything. But especially not the war.

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta stop you from messing up my ships, don’t I? Of course, I’ll help. Who knows how much damage you’ve already done?”

What he really meant, maybe, though he didn’t know it himself, not entirely, was _what the hell are you going to do now?_ And _can I tag along, too? Hey_ , maybe he was thinking, _how do you feel about Yavin 4? I know you used to like coming to visit with Luke while you still believed there was a chance in hell you could be a Jedi_.

Though Ben didn’t answer in words, merely stepped aside so Poe had room to work, Poe had his answer anyway.

 _Yeah_ , Ben didn’t say, _that sounds good to me_. Instead, he said, no doubt meaning Poe’s uniform and more than that, too, “That green’s a bad color for you.”

“Thanks, man,” was all Poe offered in reply, when really he meant, _I know_.


End file.
